Shattered Glass
by Sherlocked Otaku no. 42
Summary: This is not a sequel to my first,but a new one.It's similar,but it's more dramatic.Everything has changed now that no one beleives any more, but one strange girl will fix that.She can make them known,and she can save Mad from himself.And Wonderland,too.
1. Chapter 1

Hi! I guess you have pretty high expectations for this, but I can't exactly say whether or not those expectations will be reached. As I said in the summary, this story is going to be similar to my last story,except there will be a lot more dramatics in it than the last one. I am hoping it's going to be much longer than twelve or thirteen chapters, and I hope you enjoy it as much as you did my last one.

Disclaimer:I don't own anything, although I must admit, I wish I owned at least a little.

ONE

Wonderland was old, now. So were the people in it. Time had grown bored with staying still now, because when you stay still you aren't doing anything, so it isn't much fun. It just moved quite slowly, being out of practice. Something had changed many, many years ago. The coming of Alice sparked a whole new era. The citizens of Wonderland had begun to wonder what the outside world was like. What it was like just outside the rabbit-hole, or on the other side of the Door. But no one could find the Door. They could only find the hole. Those who braved the long, tiring journey upward never returned, and it's hard to say whether it was because something happened to them, or if it was because they liked the Up There, as it was called, so much that they chose to stay and leave the world they had always known and loved since the day they were born.

Yes, people had left. They had gone Up There. But no one had ever come down. Not for almost thirty-nine years. One more year, and it would be forty. Because no one Believed any longer. Not even the little ones. Times had changed. There were no more rabbit-holes big enough. There were no more children who wished to try to Find them. There were no more parents who allowed their children to try to Find them. Now there were children who wished to grow to go to a school of magic, or children who wished to travel to planets no one had ever been to, and befriend_ those_ inhabitants. They wanted to be doctors, they wanted to dance, to sing. They didn't wish to crawl after a talking rabbit and grow and shrink and change and drink tea, or to talk with cats that disappeared on various intervals, or to talk about words with a queen who removed the heads of all her citizens for no good reason. Such things were not possible. Aliens from other planets were possible, faeries in the gardens who played with gnomes and small animals were possible. Going back and forth in Time was possible. Shrinking to the size of a mouse and living in a house made from a mushroom was possible. But climbing down a hole and entering another world that way was not. Why? Who really knew the answer to that question?

Things change. Time changes. People change. Not only do they change, they Happen. Happening was important. Nothing could Begin without first Happening. Happenings always came before the Beginnings. The only people who really knew that, however, were those in Wonderland. They did not have very much to do. They had open minds, and so they Thought. They Considered. They Listened to all their Thoughts. It was the reason so many words were capitalized. The words that have a big first letter are important. There are many important words, you see. But I've gone off track. Wonderlanders Thought. They Thought more than we do. They always have. Probably always will. So it was that someone discovered that Happenings were before Beginnings.

The reason why I bring the Happenings and Beginnings up is because there was once a very important Happening. Her name was Marie. She Happened when a man followed the weak cries of a child to a clearing the forest. There he found the girl. She was very small, and her eyes were large and grey. Here hair was grey as well, but held more of a silver quality that made it shimmer. Her skin was pale. She was wearing a red dress.

She stopped crying when the man came, and looked at him. She looked at everything. She had been crying because her knee was scraped and bleeding. She was surrounded by four of the biggest wolves the man had ever seen. So he considered shooting them. But he did not. Why? The wolves did nothing when he came there. They studied him, and remained silent. Then, one by one they moved away. They sat down a few feet from her, close enough to lunge if necessary. But they were not afraid.

"What is your name, child?" he asked her.

"Marie," she said.

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't know."

"Where is your home?"

"I don't remember."

"Then you are lost?"

"No."

"But if you don't know where your home is, then you must be lost."

"No. I was put here."

"Put here?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"I don't remember."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know."

"Where did you come from?"

"I remember air."

"Air?"

"Yes. Air and hands. They were lifting me."

"From where?"

"I don't know."

"Do you remember anything before today?"

"No."

"Then, so you won't freeze or die, would you like to come home and live with me and my wife?"

"Yes, please."

"Then come. Take my hand."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

And Marie stayed with the man. Judging her from appearance, they said she was seven. So she told all those who asked that she was seven. And she stayed. But as she grew,_ Marie_ knew._ Marie_ grew up following the rabbits. She followed them and knew exactly what she would find. Even when she was much too old for it, she followed the rabbits and knew. And one day... One day, she Found them. And_ then_ the first Beginning took place.

SHATTERED GLASS

A/N: Okay, I know this ruins the mood, for those of you who decided to read this, but it had to be done, sorry. This is just a quick thank you to all those of you who are interested in this story. Please review, I don't expect a dozen of them or anything before the second chapter is up, but I like a little feedback. Please don't expect chapter two right away, I do have other things to work on, and I need to figure out what is going to happen in the next chapter. I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so I wrote it down. I know what's going on already, I just need to know how I'm going to set it up and get it going. Thanks again, I'll stop typing now. Bye!


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, this was pretty quick, but, damn it all, it was in my head. Chapter two up already. I didn't expect it to be here by now, but it is. Weird... Anyways, here this is, enjoy.

TWO

"Shut up. Shut up, damn you, stop it! Stop it!" But he didn't leave him alone. The voice. He didn't even have the slightest clue where it was coming from, let alone who it was. What he did know, however, was that he was the only person who could hear it.

Mad gripped the brim of his hat so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He held that straw top hat onto his head like it was some kind of powerful forcefield. Keeping him away. Keeping Mad safe. But it wasn't working. He was trembling, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritted so tightly it hurt. He could still hear the sneering, taunting drone of a voice, echoing from all around him, or maybe from inside his own head, he didn't know. Why couldn't someone else hear it? Why did_ he_ have to be the one that was tortured so?

He couldn't do it. What the voice was telling him to do, he couldn't, it was bad, it was bad, if he did it, something would_ Happen_, but it was a_ bad_ something that would Happen, it would cost lives, Things would be Undone. He couldn't Undo those Things.

But he couldn't hurt the voice. He couldn't hurt it if he didn't know where it was coming from, if he didn't think it had a solid body. And so all he could do, was doing, was mutter at it through his teeth, the teeth gritted so hard it hurt. "Stop it! Stop it now, I won't, I tell you! I won't listen to you, and you can't force me to do it! No! Shut up!_ Shut up!_"

"... ?"

What was that? That wasn't the voice, not the one he was being tormented by.

"... tty?"

There, there it was again, clearer now, or getting there. Force the first voice away, that was it...

"... tty?"

No, no, clearer, it needed to be clearer... No, not him, not the first one again. Shut up, shut up, why wouldn't it be silent? Harder, listen harder to the second voice. Listen...

"... atty?"

A little more, just a little more... Be _silent, _you bastard!

"... atty? Hatty?"

There!

"Hatty?!"

"What?!" Mad straightened up with a jolt, giving the impression he had just been stung by a wasp, and stared wide-eyed but, for the moment, unseeingly at the owner of the second voice. It was gone. Thank the Gods, it was _gone! Silent!_ For now, at any rate. His heart was pounding...

The second person remained silent also. He sat and looked at Mad with various different expressions on his face.

Mad blinked. He could see, then, but he felt slightly numb. He realized that what he had just gone through probably had startled his friend, if only a bit. "I'm sorry..." he panted in a hushed voice, and began slowly looking around him in a slight daze. He was suddenly aware that his tea must be getting cold, and he stared down at the cup, still dazed, and did nothing but sit and stare at it, his hands limp in his lap. Upon jolting out of the trance, he had managed somehow to remember to remove his elbows from the table.

"You were hearing it again, weren't you?"

He said nothing, just stared at the tea.

"You know, I keep telling you that a good knock on the head will do the trick."

"Oh, come off it, Marchy, you know you've given me enough knocks already as it is, and they don't work."

"Perhaps another good knock will get rid of it."

"Please..."

At this point, a small, piping, yet sleepy sounding voice made itself heard. "One knock, two knocks, three knocks, four, who's that a-knocking without yon door? Five knocks, six knocks, seven knocks, eight—"

"Oh, do hush, Dormy, Hatty's having troubles," snapped the hare angrily, "We'll have none of your noncensing about, go on! Go on,then, get back to sleeping as you usually are doing, or I shall be forced to shove you into the kettle again like yesterday!"

"Oh, very well, very well," said the Dormouse, "I don't care very much for knocking... any... way..." And he began to snore quite obnoxiously

Mad was still doing nothing. Damn that voice, wherever it might have come from. He couldn't remember any longer when or where it had started, it must have been so very long ago.

"There, there, now, Hatty, drink up! We still have fifty more places to move to."

"I don't feel very much like drinking or even moving, Marchy. I have had a rough day..."

"Well, then, why don't you just get some sleep?"

"Because he comes to me in my Dreams, Marchy. The voice I hear. It comes then, and I can't force it away while I Dream."

"Well, the answer to that is simple. Don't Dream."

"I cannot force myself not to Dream, it isn't that simple. Dreaming is natural, and you can't stop natural."

"I could keep you from Dreaming."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

March didn't answer in words. He just gave Mad yet another knock on the head, putting him out instantly.

The crash resulted in waking the Dormouse, who promptly began to mutter something about Tiptoeing Tulips dancing with Tinkling Teacups, and so was once again forced back into the kettle.

And then Marchy quietly returned to his tea, later engaging in a pleasant conversation with a bee about Nothings and how they were not quite Nothings if they existed and had something like a body that couldn't be seen. Nothings hurt people if they chose. But they were called Nothings, and so were not considered to be there. It was all Logic, you see, and March was quite good at logic.

A/N: Okay, I'm sorry that was so short, but it should have given you a good idea about what is going on in Wonderland, at least with Mad, around this part of the story. That's how I'm going to try to write this from now on. The chapters will trade between the two worlds, going first to this world, and then to Wonderland. It might be confusing because I don't start it with a warning, but you'll get used to it. Thanks for reading. Review, please! Bye!


	3. Chapter 3

This,without a doubt, is the fastest time I have ever gotten a story done, doing it chapter-by-chapter. Or at least I think so. It seems like it, at any rate. Anywho, here is the third chapter of Shattered Glass for you to enjoy.

THREE

It was raining heavily outside, the yard was becoming one huge puddle very quickly. But it was warm in here. It was strange that it should be warm inside a log cabin, the only source of heat being the wood stove in the corner of the den. It was doing a good job on keeping the warmth in, however.

The spider carefully wrapped it's prey in webbing and slowly killed it, wandering off to let the insect it had caught suffer. It wasn't very long before the bug stopped moving, clearly dead, and it's killer wandered back to it. Fangs came out and sank into the dead thing, and it slowly shrunk. It was the most fascinating thing Marie had ever watched take place.

She watched with a kind of tired, but interested look, her chin resting on an arm, while the other arm was bent up against the side of her head, keeping it up. She blinked rarely, but kept watching the spectacle as intently as a small, curious little seven year old could. The spider was actually quite pretty, she mused as she witnessed the feeding. It had gruesome ways of eating, certainly, but didn't everyone have some form of a gruesome way of eating in the eyes of other people? Perhaps killing, wrapping, and devouring insects was an art in the spider world. It was just that people could not see it that way because people didn't have the capacity of thinking like a spider. Unless they were some kind of mad genius who delved a bit too deep into trying to think like one to a point where he thought he had become one. Like some kind of villain with inhuman powers. But that was silly. Still, the thought of this intrigued Marie quite a bit and she did not stop thinking on it. At least not until the spider was done and went away. Then she turned her attention to the rain outside the window.

Yes, the yard was transforming into a pond. Daddy should be home soon... It had been several months, now, almost a year, when she thought about it, and that was what she had begun to call the man who had brought her home, although she knew full well that he was not her father. He could not be, if he had found her at seven and not had her since birth. But it had grown on her to call him that, because she had felt a bit left out when the other children called him that. As for the children, Sue and Nicholas, she considered them to be an older sister and younger brother. They had asked her to, and, so she had complied without any reason to complain. She did not know what a brother and sister were, because before then, she had not had any, although she did remember hearing the words once, but only once. She quite liked being the middle child as well. It was a nice feeling. This way she got to learn what it was like being both a big sister and a little sister.

It was a nice place, this. She thought so, even when it rained like this and turned the ground into a small river. She watched the water rise carefully, as though she were waiting for something to come out of it. Her little brother was seated on the floor and was practicing his handwriting with the woman Marie had come to call Mother, while her older sister knitted a sweater for the coming winter. Sue's sweaters were oh, so nice. They may have been made of wool, but somehow Sue knew how to knit it just the right way, and they never itched. You had to be careful when you washed them, though, in order to prevent them from shrinking.

So the water outside pooled. And Marie's overactive imagination began to weave a new possibility. Were there little people that lived in the puddles outside? Or perhaps little mice swam about in the water, meeting later at the edges of the puddles and telling each other stories about kings and queens, or hist'ry. Perhaps even the little insects out there who had so far managed to stay away from all the spiders and feet and birds even had their own stories to tell one another. She smiled to herself, the thought of such things making her happy. It brought about a kind of familiar warmth that she did not know the origin of. Whenever she was alone, she let that warmth engulf her by thinking up the most brilliant stories she could. About talking flowers and kings and queens, and knights rescuing young ladies lost in the woods. Then the warmth would surround her, and a slight feeling of familiarity with the stories she made up came with it. But the warmth was something she kept to herself. She didn't want anyone else to know how to do it, just her, and perhaps it was selfish, but a person always had a right to be at least a little selfish at least at one point in their lives, didn't they? It could get a person into trouble, always looking out for and caring about and giving things to everyone else, couldn't it?

She let the warmth come now, all the kings and queens forming themselves as pictures in her head. "Marie, please come away from the window, sweetheart, before you catch cold. The windows aren't warm, you know."

"Yes, mummy," Marie said, and reluctantly turned away from it, sliding down onto the sofa.

"You know, I_ do_ approve of imagination in young children, but don't you want to work on learning to read? You're doing very well, you know."

"I know, but I can't find any good books to read anymore. I've looked through all of them."

"Are you quite sure you looked through them all, dear?"

"Yes. I've practiced with each of them twice, now. We don't have very many."

"Hm. Well, that is true, but you've only read the books your sister has, haven't you?"

"Aren't those all the books that I'd be able to understand? You said that the books you and daddy have would be hard for me until I can read bigger words."

"I did. But I believe I still have some books I had when I was your age, perhaps a bit younger. Or older. I do know I have some from some point in my childhood, though. Would you like to try to read some of them?"

"Yes, please."

"Well, then, I'll go and see if I can find the trunks I put them in, then, all right? And you just wait right here. I'll be back." With that, Marie's mother left the room, leaving Nicholas to try and work on his handwriting for a little bit by himself. He promptly stopped practicing and crawled over to play with the family's puppy, who lovingly romped around the room, Nicholas chasing after him and laughing.

Marie, wondering what kind of fascinating tales the books her mother had had as a child held in store for her to learn. She hoped they held as much adventure as she liked stories to have. Unable to stay still for anticipation, she wandered over to where Sue sat and carefully watched her hands fly about, hoping that once she learned to read properly, she would be able to knit like that. "Will you teach me how to knit sometime, Sue? Please?"

Sue laughed. "I should think so, but I think you should first learn to write like Nicholas is. You're only learning to read first so you recognize the letters you're going to write, you know. It helps to be able to read what you're going to write."

Marie sighed. "All right, if I must wait. But I don't know why I have to learn to write first."

"Because it helps your hands grow accustomed to a lot of movement. That's what mummy said to me when I asked her the same questions."

"Did you really ask her the same ones?"

"Yes. And she says she asked grandmummy the same things."

Marie had never met Grandmummy. But that didn't stop her from beaming. She was very glad to have something in common with both her adopted mother and sister. It made her feel like she belonged a bit more than she already felt. It was quite a nice feeling.

"I found them." Mummy came in with two books in her hand, and with a confused look on her face. "D'you know, I swear I put the trunk these were in far into the back of the spare room, and I thought I'd have to dig through all the other trunks, but the trunk was right there in front of the rest, and it was even open! These were right on the top! But I swear, I put that trunk in the back of the room, and these must have been on the bottom... Ah, well. Here you are, dear. They were two of my favorites when I was small. They seem like the same story, but they're written in two different ways."

With that, she handed Marie the novels, both of which were bound in brown leather that was slowly falling apart from age and disuse. One of them was called "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", while the other was called "Alice Through the Looking Glass."

It happened quite fast. It was also quite unexpected. The thought seemed to simply waft through Marie's mind after she read the main character's name, trying to carefully avoid recognition. But Marie noticed it. In fact, there wasn't a way she could_ not_ have noticed it. It took over her vision.

It was strange. Suddenly, Marie could not see the books she held in her hands, nor could she see any of her surroundings. But she still_ felt_ herself holding the books, and_ felt_ that both her feet were still on the den floor. But, quite suddenly, she could not see them. What she did see was very blurry, and she could not make it out well. She was outside somewhere, it seemed, because she was given the impression that there was quite a lot of green around her. But she was also given the impression that she was looking at something. It was oblong, and looked to be some kind of table, or a pedestal of sorts, with something lain out across it. The something lain out on it seemed to be very blue. But there was another color as well, and it appeared to be a kind of skin tone... A person?

She heard a man talking quietly to her, telling her something... And it was gone. But as the vision faded away, she heard herself whisper, for some reason, "Asleep."

"What, dear?" her mother said. She was too busy trying to get Nicholas to settle down again and concentrate on his writing. "Do you think you'd like to read them?"

"... Yes." She was still talking quietly. She felt very, very, weary all of a sudden, as though she had run a long way. "I... think I'll go to my room and read them up there, all right, mummy?"

"All right, Marie, but come down in time for supper, don't forget. Your father is brining home deer tonight."

"All right..."

Things happen for a reason, sometimes. For example, the trunk the books had been in had certainly been in the back of the spare room. And the books had certainly been in the bottom of the trunk. But they had simply not been there when mummy had looked. There was a reason for everything. And we all know that. Don't we?

It was a while before Marie actually began reading either one of the books. She was too busy wondering what it had been that she'd seen. And she couldn't get the words out of her mind.

_Asleep... She's asleep..._

A/N: Alrighty, then, that was a strange ending, but I couldn't think of a better one. I guess you can just expect the fourth chapter to come up as fast as you think it might come. I think I'm making people think a lot rather nicely, don't you? If that made any sense whatsoever. But if it didn't, oh, well. This is a story about Wonderland, is it not? A lot of things don't make sense in Wonderland, so I think I should be allowed to let that one slide. So, I hope you enjoyed that. Thank you, and good night. Bye! Review pretty please!


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, there, and thank you for reading all the way to chapter four! I have no idea why this story is coming to me so fast, when all my other ones take so long for me to think up parts to. I hope that it's held your interest so far, I have no idea what this chapter is going to be like as far as you're concerned, but I hope you at least find it interesting.

FOUR

The cell was dank, and smelt of various odors that Jack did not care to wonder about the sources of. He could hardly smell them any longer as it were; he had, after all, been living here for several months. His brother, the King of Hearts, had placed him here with a sentence of death for him to look forward to that had never been carried out. He could stand to lock his brother up for life, but he could not stand to kill him. Which one seemed worse, Jack wondered.

He lay upon a bench in the corner, waiting for his next meal. He had been forced to resort to killing the rats that came in and out of here, eating those, because he was often forgotten about all together for long days at a time. That is, until Allie had discovered which cell was his. Now he made weekly visits, slipping him baskets of food through the grate, enough to last the entire week. The first time this had happened, Jack had not had a meal in three days, and he had gotten himself sick from eating too much too fast, and had been forced to regurgitate the large meal in the corner of his cell, not being able to call to the guards for a bucket for fear of rousing suspicion. He could not afford that. He had learnt to deal with having to keep himself from crying out in joy to Allie when he showed up at the window the first few nights, which he had been forced to do for the same reason he had for not calling for a bucket. And Allie had held brief conversations with him, keeping him at least somewhat sane, giving him someone to talk to.

The only thing he had not learnt to deal with was the emptiness. He had no emotions any longer, he just had thoughts. He didn't even think the way a Wonderland citizen thought anymore. He was a hollowed-out piece of wood, it seemed. Since they had taken her from him...

They had never even given him a hint as to whether or not they knew of her whereabouts or even if she was still alive. He hoped at least she had gotten out. She was the only reason he remained living himself. Allie's reassurance that he had a feeling that she was quite all right, even though he also didn't know where she was helped. Jack kept believing that as long as the Card Guards were telling him nothing about her she was still alive somewhere, probably having no choice but to stay in hiding, and thus he had a reason to live. But she was not the only girl on his mind, not the only one who he feared for the safety of. He dared not think too much of what he knew had become of at least the second girl, for fear that he might begin to talk to himself. He had taken on that habit recently, having not been allowed a cell-mate and having real conversations only once a week. It was dangerous for him to think of them, he could start a hunt.

And so he lay and tried very hard to concentrate on neither of them, but only on his stomach, growling for hunger, waiting with bated breath for Allie to come and bring him a basket. He let his thoughts wander as far as they could, not having the need for them, and wanting to allow them a romp. They were such big thoughts, though, that they couldn't fit through the grated window. So he let them float about the cell, but didn't allow them out of the bars, because they could be found by quite the wrong person and the results would not be good.

The ceiling was very black tonight. Never before had it occurred to him that the ceiling had any specific color at all, but there it was, black as black could get. Even after his eyes had adjusted he could see nothing up there, not even the reflection of the moonlight shimmering off the stones it was made from. His stomach let out a particularly loud protest against being empty, and he told it quietly to hush up, or it might wake the prisoners in the next cell over.

A spider crawled across his face, and he lay perfectly still and ignored it. Spiders were as frequent a group of visitors as the rats were. He had learnt also to deal with them. If they were big enough to eat, he probably would have eaten them when he was hungry enough, and the rats, too, but they weren't, so he didn't. And it had been a week.

Silence. That was all he could hear from outside, not even the typical crickets were singing tonight, it was as though the whole night was waiting, trying to keep from giving away what it was waiting for. But something was wrong, Allie was late. He should have come almost two hours ago, Jack could _feel _it. And as Time moved slowly now, two hours was a dreadfully long time. When he thought about it, in fact, it seemed that two hours here was the equivalent of about six, or perhaps eight hours Up There. Yes, he knew Up There. She had told him all about it.

Another Wonderland hour passed. Please, don't let him have been caught, what if he had news of the girls? What if they killed him, right on the spot where they found him, what if they _killed_ Allie, his best friend and the only person who knew...

A rustle outside the window. A grunt, as someone stubbed their toe on one of the old bricks that jutted out from the soft grass. Then, after a moment's pause... "Jack?" The voice was whispering, and it sounded hoarse, as though it had had trouble, but it was something he could recognize at once. It was the only voice that he ever heard.

"Allie! Good gracious, is that you, man? Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I accidentally got attention drawn to me, and had to run for it, then come back another way."

"But are you all right?"

A chuckle, just a small one. "Of course I am, or I wouldn't be here, now, would I?" By this time, the two friends had positioned themselves on either side of the window, Jack having to stand on tiptoe in order to get close enough to see at least a bit. He was tall for a Card, but it was still quite hard for him to reach the window, and even though he knew full well that he was nearly two heads over every one of the others, it made him feel quite short. "Here," said Allie, "I brought you a bit extra tonight. Didn't eat much today, you see, I was busy..." With that, a wicker basket was carefully pushed through the bars, and nearly dropped to the floor because it had slipped, and Jack just managed to catch it before it dropped. "Got it?"

"Yes, I have it... Busy, you say? But you hardly do anything, do you? Or have you finally begun raking in some coin after so long without it?"

"Only a bit, mate. But you needn't worry. We're all right."

"Well, then, I'm glad for that. At least I know_ someone_ is still living all right..."

"Now, don't get your hopes down, Jack. I won't have you getting depressed. I assure you, they are both safe and sound... somewhere."

"You know where one of them is, don't you?"

"As do you. But I cannot get to her. I've_ tried_, Jack, really, I have. But I can't make it... It's like I'm being held back..."

"I know. And I'm sorry I've dragged you into this mess. You needn't come at all, you know, I can manage."

"Stuff and nonsense! I wouldn't dream of leaving you here to starve!"

Jack smiled. "I know, Allie. I know. But it makes me feel a bit guilty, making you come and bring me food and drink each week, risking your life and all just for me."

"Don't bother thinking like that. I take pride in doing it. You'll be out of here soon enough, I promise. I'll try anything I can think of just to get you out."

"I heard you already tried today, you know," Jack commented, "You came straight in and asked as politely as ever if you could see me. Just what were you proposing to do? Come down here and break the door down, thus getting me out?"

He could see that familiar grin appear on Allie's face. "Actually, to be honest, I don't really know just what I was planning to do. I suppose I was going to come up with it while talking to you."

"You really are mad, aren't you?"

"Isn't everyone living in Wonderland mad, Jack?"

Jack hadn't laughed in quite some time. It felt good to be doing it now. "Yes, you're right. Everyone here _is_ mad, and it can't be helped. But, in all seriousness, Allie, you know right enough my brother hates your kind. He could have had you killed for trespassing, if my sister-in-law didn't demand it first. You might have lost your head."

"I know, but I think he was in a good mood today, although I think I may have spoiled it for him. All he did was bellow at me to leave his castle. He sounded quite like his wife for once. Has something been stirring itself up?"

"I live in a cell now, mate. I don't hear very much news."

"True enough, true enough." Just then, a noise came from somewhere off to Allie's left. It sounded like a guard talking to another. They were looking for someone. _"Shit!"_, Allie hissed, and pressed himself up against the wall next to the window.

"Run, friend!" hissed Jack, "I'll distract them somehow! Run, be off, before they catch you!"

Reluctantly, Allie made himself scarce after a hasty goodbye, and was gone in a flash. Seconds later, two Cards came around the corner in a hurry, weapons raised and ready, and skidded to a halt outside Jack's window.

"I do apologize, gentlemen, have I caused you some alarm?"

"Silence, prisoner!" one of them barked at him, but then defeated the purpose of his asking that question of him by saying, "Did a man come by here? He had a basket with him."

Jack said nothing.

"Answer me, or I'll stick you with my sword!"

"But you told me to be silent," he said purposefully.

This so surprised the guard that for a brief time he was silent himself, before saying hotly, "Never mind that! Did you or did you not see a man by here?!"

"Oh. Well, in that case, no, sir, I haven't. _So_ sorry."

"You had better be telling the truth, Knave, or you really _will_ be sorry!"

"I assure you I have seen no man, woman, child or creature pass by this window. I only just stepped in front of it myself, having heard your voices and become curious."

The guard gave him one last glare, and then he and his friend went away again, leaving Jack to hope that somehow Allie's escape had been successful.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I liked writing it! I think I did pretty well, it took me, like, five hours. Honest. I don't know why... Anyway, thanks for reading thus far as usual, and please review! Bye!


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry it took more than two days to come up with this one... I got stuck on what I should write down this chapter, you know. Trying to think of something good that wouldn't make the story move too fast... Anyways, here it is. Thanks, and enjoy!

FIVE

The she-wolf was back again. It never did anything, just sat there, just outside the yard, watching... He never pointed his gun at her. Because, after all, she just _watched. _She knew he was there, he could feel that she knew about it, it was just that she disregarded him entirely.

This was the third night he'd seen her, and watched her just as intently as she sat and watched the window. But he had known that she had come to watch every night since Marie had come to him. There was always the evidence that a wolf had been sitting in that same spot the next morning. The tracks. The patch of flattened grass in the warmer months, or the patch of melted snow when it came down. It was obvious, which was strange. A real she-wolf had hunting experience. She may not actually be hunting when she watched, but her instincts should have told her to hide the fact that she'd been there. The wolves around here were uncannily smart, he had noticed. But this one... This one didn't use her intelligence to hide her tracks here, in this situation. She just ignored him and sat there.

Watching Marie's window. Carefully. Cautiously. She was making sure Marie was all right. She was protecting her. In some way or another.

Perhaps she knew that anything could happen once every other occupant in the house was asleep. Thieves. Men. Men with very sinful intentions. The she-wolf did not, for whatever reason, want any kind of harm to come to Marie in any way. Perhaps, he thought now, while he was at last feeling safe enough to let himself think as long as he kept his eyes on the wolf, that was why they had been surrounding her when he found her. After all, they had done nothing to him besides study him for a while before backing off. They had done nothing to stop him from taking the girl home to care for her. Had they known that he wouldn't harm her? That she would be safe with him?

It didn't make any sense, really. Why was it wolves with her? Why was she not afraid of them, why didn't she care? He knew it was impossible for her to have been raised by them. She knew how to speak, she had had on a dress when he found her. And she was not a werewolf, their chickens hadn't been slaughtered recently, nor had there been any reports of it happening anywhere else. She never acted strangely when the full moon was up, she didn't act strangely any other time, either. No, she had just been protected by four huge wolves, one of which now watched her room intently. The thing would not move, he had fired into the air the last few times with his rifle to scare it off, and she hadn't flinched. She just looked at the window. After a moment, though, she'd looked at him. But it had been slowly, and she seemed bored with him almost. So he had left her alone, and waited every night until she left, which was always sometime around sunrise.

He still watched, though. A father's instinct told him never to stop watching. "John?"

He looked behind him, surprised at his name. His wife stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself, hugging her robe to her. He smiled at her. "Well, Jo, I do appreciate you coming out like this, but it's cold. You'd best get inside, now, or you might become ill."

She laughed quietly. "You know I don't become ill as easy as all that," she said, "Besides, I've made us some tea. It's in on the table."

"Could you bring it out here? I don't want to lose sight..."

Joanna came out and looked off in the direction of the she-wolf. "Is it her again?" she said, sitting on the porch swing next to him.

He nodded.

"I think it's nice, you know."

"You think what's nice?"

"That that she-wolf over there is keeping an eye on our daughter. She was one of the wolves you said was around her when you found her in the woods, wasn't she?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Well, then, if she hasn't done anything yet, and it's been almost a year now, I don't see anything to worry about."

"Joanna, she's a_ wolf._ I might not know wolves well enough to draw conclusions, but I'm drawing one, and I say it's dangerous!"

"Then why don't you shoot her?"

He didn't say anything for some time, and she waited patiently with a knowing smile on her face. He looked away.

"You can't, can you?"

"... No. No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because... Because she hasn't... Done anything yet."

"There you are. If she hasn't done anything but sit and watch her window, then you don't have a thing to worry about, as I said."

"Now, how do you know?"

"I don't. But I believe it's true. Because, after all, what reason, other than the fact that she's a wolf, do I have of not trusting her, hm?"

It was a long time before he looked away from his wife and back out at the she-wolf. And it was a longer time still before he said anything else. Because he was thinking. He hated to admit when his wife was right and he was wrong, but this time, he had to agree with her. He didn't have a reason to be wary of the wolf if she hadn't done anything to Marie. In almost a year. He sighed. "Well... I suppose you're right..."

Jo smiled and put her arms around one of his. "Then will you put that rifle away and come inside to have some tea with me?"

He looked at her and said, "Yes, I think I will. I'm pretty thirsty as it is." He groaned as he got up from his seat, and they turned to head back inside. But as they reached the doorway, he paused and turned around for one last look at the she-wolf, who still sat motionless by the edge of the woods, eyes fixated on Marie's window. She wouldn't understand him. She couldn't, could she? Not if she was a wolf, right? He considered for a moment.

"John, what is it? Come along, it's cold."

He held up a hand, then handed her the rifle. As she looked at him with a puzzled expression, he moved out onto the porch again, stopped to consider for another moment, and then said what he wanted to say. He called over to the wolf. "Listen, I don't know if you can understand me, wolf, but I've decided to trust you. Now, I'm goin' in with my wife and I don't intend on coming out ever again to watch you, so you're free to do as you like. But so help me, if I find out you've been at my daughter in any way at all, I promise you, I will look for you and find you. And then you and all your friends out there will be in bigger trouble than you can imagine. So... Watch yourself, or you'll be sorry."

It wasn't a very good way to end it, he decided, but it had been worth a shot. She had looked in his direction when he called to her, at any rate. And he went in and sat down to have some late tea with his wife. She couldn't understand him, he thought after a while, not a wild animal. She had no idea what he had said, but he intended on doing what he had. He was losing sleep anyway.

But the she-wolf understood him. She had understood him perfectly well, and it gave her more confidence in leaving Marie with him and his family then she had had before. But she still came. Because, even if the man was trusting her now, and even if he would not let any harm come to her while he was awake, there was still a chance that something could happen while he slept. That something could happen to Marie. What exactly, she didn't know, but she knew. And as long as she was still breathing, even if it was in this body and not the one she had been born with, this one that she would now have for the rest of her life, she would let no harm come to that little girl. And she would not let her out of her sight. Not until it was time to let her return, to go back to the place they both had come from. Because, after all... She_ did_ need to wake the Queen, did she not?

A/N: Was that mysterious or not? I dunno, I just thought it was interesting. I hope you enjoyed that, I think I have what I'm going to do for the next chapter almost figured out. Please come back soon to continue reading about it and everything... Wow, that line sucked... Anyways, thanks again, and review, please! Bye!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, as you can see, my brain-power is fading a little bit, but I hope you don't mind too too much. It isn't like I'm skipping out altogether on this one like with my other ones, which are definitely going to be finished... At some point. Anyways, I won't trouble you with typing anything else here, now. Please read and enjoy.

SIX

Paying your respects. The phrase had always confused the two brothers who now walked hand in hand deep into a hidden part of their wood. After all, in order to pay someone something you had to actually physically _hand_ it to them, didn't you? You could not hand someone respect, could you? Respect wasn't something you could hold or touch, or give to someone for an un-birthday present. It was just... What was it? A feeling? A kind of conversation? Perhaps it was the second thing. That was what their version of respect was. They sat with her and talked to her as she slept, looking just the same as she did the last time they had seen her, before all this, a young lady. And now she lay on her pedestal, eyes closed, holding her chalice with her golden crown sitting on her head. She was not dead. She had never been _dead_. She was breathing, although you had to pay close attention to her to see this, because it was so soft and slow.

Whatever "paying" your respects was, it was hard to have to do it in secret. They had to speak quietly to her so they wouldn't be caught. If they were caught, then they would be killed for treachery, and then their murderers would kill the girl, and that wasn't something that would help Mirror House at all. That was another thing that confused them. This place wasn't a house. It was a forest. There were trees, bugs, and, sometimes, however much they regretted thinking about it, a Monstrous Crow. There were no real walls, there was just air and nature. Unless their house counted as part of the place, in which case, yes, it was Mirror House. But, no, that didn't seem quite right.

They came upon her resting place gradually, and they paused a moment before approaching. They always did this, although they didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was part of the respect, perhaps it was because some part of their brains deep down inside their skulls was half-expecting her to suddenly sit up in a flash and announce that she was quite all right, felt better than ever and well-rested, and would like a little food and drink, please and thank you very much. But she did not. She remained motionless, lying on her back in that simple, resting position, and said not a word, nor made a sound. So they went to her quietly and carefully, still wondering what would happen if she_ did_ wake.

When they came within about three feet of her, they both stopped and went down on one knee, bowing their heads. They didn't know why you were supposed to do this, but they had been here when she was placed where she lay, and Gavin had done it then. It felt a nice grand thing to do, however, so they stayed like this for a moment longer before getting up and taking their places on either side of her.

It was silent here, deathly silent. It was eerie, sometimes, and one of those times was now. But the brothers would not let that keep them from talking to her. They always talked to her, no matter what was going on. This would be no exception for them. To feel more comfortable, they both carefully seated themselves sideways on her bed, both in almost identical positions, one leg on the bed, one off, turned to face her. One of them placed a hand over one of hers. The other lovingly adjusted her silken pillow, then gently brushed some hair out of her eyes, to keep her from looking a mess. The wind could do mean things to a sleeping Royal, he assumed.

It was strange, how peaceful she looked when this was not a natural sleep. No one knew why she was asleep, either, they said that it had just happened. But they knew this must be a lie. You don't fall asleep forever for no reason. This was a spell. They didn't understand spells very well, and so they didn't know how to break it, but they thought about it a lot, hoping they could help. They had heard tell of another girl, one who would come down from the rabbit-hole, wherever that was, who would be the person to wake her. She was to find something, or someone, they weren't quite sure. But they knew she was to come. A woman they had met a long time ago had told them she would help this girl return. Why the word she'd used was return, they didn't know, nor did they care to know, but perhaps they could help this girl who would return themselves, be of some kind of assistance. They hoped so.

After some time, one of them began. He didn't say much, but he certainly began. He began the same way he always did, by greeting her warmly. And his brother did the same, and then they talked. They told her of all the things that had been happening in her kingdom, all the things that were causing trouble. They told her that she would need to set things straight again when she came back to them, and perhaps she would have to punish the King and Queen of Hearts. They were the cause of all this. They wanted Mirror House, but they would not be allowed to have it if she woke. Because it was Hers. It was not for anyone else to take, unless under circumstance of her death, which the brothers and many, many other people would not allow. And so she had been placed here. Where the King and Queen of Hearts couldn't find her.

But why asleep? It didn't make sense to put someone to sleep. Not forever, at any rate. It was rude, wasn't it? But they mustn't think of those things now. It was bad to think of things that worried them when talking to her.

After they were done telling her of what was happening in her kingdom, they felt it was right to recite a long poem to her. It was the anniversary of the day they had first met her, after all, and they had told it to her then.

They took turns. One of them recited the first verse, and the other recited the next. And on and on it went, the poem about a beach, two friends, and a group of very foolish oysters. And then they bid her farewell until the next time they retuned to keep her company.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness of that chapter, but that was all that needed to be said, really. I guess you know who the brothers are, and who the girl they were talking to is, but then again, you might not, so I guess it's all right. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! Bye!


	7. Chapter 7

Okay,I hope you all enjoyed the last few chapters and stuff, and here's the next one, which I also hope you will enjoy.

SEVEN

"Stay still, Marie, and let me pin this up..." Marie was being slightly twitchy today, it seemed, or at least she couldn't stay still. Perhaps it was the prospect of school?

"But, mummy, I don't_ like_ it! It itches..." Marie promptly bent her arm behind her back as far as it would go and scratched away, what little nails she had apparently not doing a very good job.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to it if you want to go to school, sweetheart. Turn this way for a moment, and please don't scratch so, you're causing me a bit of a problem here. I need to get it all set up so I can make it small enough for you..."

"But why do we have to wear a_ uniform_?" She asked, trying her best to stay still and avoid being pricked with mummy's pins.

"Because that is what you must do in school, dear. You wear a uniform, just like the rest of the children who go there do."

"But I don't like it."

"I know you don't, but really, Marie, you should be able to get used to how it itches." Another pin, another mark with her chalk, and once more Joanna turned her daughter around at another angle. It really was hard, trying to pin up the skirt of a uniform for a girl that just_ would_ not stay still. She'd already had to take a few pins out and re-mark a few things here and there.

"It isn't just because it itches, mummy, it's because of the_ sameness_."

"Is it really?" This was something she had never heard an eight-year-old girl say before. "What's wrong with how it's all the same?"

"It's just... I don't like being the same as everyone else. I like being different, you know, like _me_ and not like all the others. It's what makes us all... Um... Unique." Joanna saw the triumphant look on her daughter's face, put there because she was glad she could remember such a word as unique, and couldn't help smiling.

"You're quite young to be talking that way, aren't you? The way you're going on about how people should be themselves and how uniforms don't encourage that? I'm beginning to be impressed. Oh, darn, I missed a spot..." She was very careful with her language around her children, as she thought that, although she might say damn every so often when they were not around, she should not say it in front of them, in order to keep them from believing that they could say it themselves. Marie, of course, was the one that she most worried about when it came to this, as she was far more likely to be influenced by it.

"Well... Perhaps if I'm much too young to be thinking like that... Maybe... Maybe I'm big on the inside already!" This prospect was delightful to the little girl, and Jo had to stop pinning to let her daughter do a very small victory dance. Once it was over, she chuckled, and told her to stay still again.

"Well, that's something I've never heard before. A little girl being a big girl on the inside."

"I think I _am_ big, mummy, I just haven't grown into it yet."

"Well, that sounds lovely. Perhaps you're right. Maybe you _are_ a big girl on the inside."

"Is it a good thing mummy? That I'm big on the inside?"

"I think it's a very good thing... There we are. All finished. Go on and have a look at yourself in the mirror and see what you think."

"I already think it's foolish."

"You know," Jo said, putting her pins and things back into their box., " if you _do _wish to be big on the inside, then I think a good start would be to accept the fact that although you may not like it, you really will need to get used to the uniform you're wearing, since you'll need to wear it every school day for this whole year. And a couple years after, too, until you go to a different school when you're older."

"I know, but then I'd have to wear another uniform altogether, mummy, won't I?"

"Yes, but by then you'll be used to it. Now, go on upstairs and look in the mirror on your wall. That's the only full-length one in the house, it'll help you to see what you look like better."

"Oh, all right..." Jo laughed as Marie trotted up the short flight of stairs to the top floor.

It was strange, how fast Marie suddenly seemed to be growing up. They had had her birthday last week, on the anniversary of the day John had found her. They had decided that that was a good day to make her a year older, since she couldn't remember her real one.

A year had passed, now. Marie had learned everything she needed to before going to school. Joanna had decided it best to home-school her first, to get her up to speed with all the other children, and now she knew how to read and write, and could do math problems very fast in her head. It was this last thing that surprised her. She had never met a girl so young before who could do large sums as fast as Marie could, it was as though she had the answers memorized.

Marie went into the room she shared with her sister and closed the door, then went to the wall next to it, upon which hung the mirror, expecting to look ridiculous. To her surprise, though, she looked quite all right. It would be a lovely uniform, she thought, if she was the only one who'd be wearing it. Somehow the prospect of wearing the same thing as everyone else made it less pretty.

She turned around in a slow circle in front of the glass, considering. She paused for a moment with her back facing the mirror, looking at herself a bit more critically than a normal child would over her shoulder. Well, if she must, she must. She sighed and turned to face it again. Then she began talking to herself.

"I don't see why they want us all to wear the same thing," she said to her reflection, "It's quite boring." Of course, she got no answer back. But then she began to pretend that the girl in the mirror was someone else, and had the opposite opinion than her, and so began a mild argument, or at least some kind of conversation, with herself.

"Well, yes, but mummy is right," she had her reflection say, "You _must _wear it in order to go to school." She paused for a moment, then repeated herself, making the reflection have a different voice.

As I suppose this needs some form of an explanation, I shall try to give you one. She had gotten the idea of pretending to be two people at once from the books her mother had given her. The Alice books, although I don't think you need to hear that to know it. If you remember reading something about Alice liking to pretend to be two people, that is. Marie had found this idea interesting, and had quietly begun doing so herself, when she was bored. She quite liked it, and it was that reason that she now began arguing with her reflection.

"I_ know_ mummy says I must, and I will, even if I don't see the point."

"Well, there certainly is a point, you know. It's a formality. If you wish to go to school, you must wear the uniforms they instruct you to. Because that's the way it's done."

"But why is it the way it's done?"

"Because that's the way it's_ always_ been done, you goose. It's..." Here, Marie paused and considered the correct pronunciation of the word, and then if it was the right word or not, and when she had decided that she had it pretty much figured out, she continued in her reflection's voice, "It's tradition. You can't just go against tradition, it changes the entire thing, you know."

"It does?"

"Yes, it does. You can't change it because it's always been there, and if something has always been there, you can't just make it not be there anymore. Not without all the grownup's permission. Permissions. Permission?" She stopped to consider what she'd said again. Which one was it? If you were talking about more than one person, didn't what you were talking about need to be plural also? Or did permission even have a plural form? This required so much thought that she gave it up, and continued instead with, "You can't do it if they say you can't."

"Because it's always been done that way?"

"Yes." And this gave Marie such a new prospect of the situation that she forgot she was arguing with her reflection altogether and seriously considered the matter. In fact, she considered it so much that she failed to notice when the background behind her reflection changed. When she did notice it, however, it surprisingly did not make her jump. It startled her, certainly, but it was a quiet kind of being startled, and resulted only in her blinking and staring at the mirror with curiosity.

She looked behind her. Then she looked back at the mirror. There was a completely different house in there. It looked a bit older, and it didn't have two beds in it. In fact, she didn't recognize the room at all. There was a lovely hearth, and there was a nearby table with books on. It was also quite dark in there, whereas here it was bright and sunny and cheerful.

She was still reflected in it. She even cautiously waved a hand to make sure of this, and it was true. She looked harder at the room her reflection was in. It seemed to waver a bit, like it was slow-moving steam of some kind. Like the kind that came out of the pots on the stove when mummy was cooking. Again she looked behind her. She was standing in her bedroom. She looked back at the mirror. Her reflection was standing in a different room that she had never seen.

She slowly reached out and touched the mirror. She felt absolutely nothing. It was like air, as though there were no glass in front of her at all, and she could just walk on through. But she pulled her hand back immediately, because the surface, including her reflection, rippled like she had just gently touched water. She looked for a moment at her hand, then swallowed and reached out again. She was not afraid of it. She had read the books. She knew what this was. This was the way to get into Mirror House. The house that looked like the one Alice lived in. She had read the book three times, now, and she knew what to expect. She could even remember perfectly the whole first half of_ The Walrus and the Carpenter_ word-for-word. She had to think to do it, but she could. So she reached out and touched it again. Her hand went through. She stared at it in silence, waiting to see if anything else happened. Then she took a breath and stepped forward...

"Marie?" Her mother's voice rang up the stairs.

Marie jumped, and then, after a moment's hesitation, answered. "Yes? I'm here."

There was a creak, the sound of someone coming up, and then her mother opened the door and looked in. "How—" She paused, and then looked from her daughter to the mirror. "What are you doing, dear?"

Only then did Marie realize she had not removed her hand, and she turned to look at the mirror, thinking of how to explain... And saw that Mirror House was gone. She was touching solid glass, and stared, confused, at the reflection she saw there. It showed her standing there in her uniform, in the middle of the bedroom she shared with Sue, and it was bright and sunny and cheerful. There was no hearth, there was no table with books on, and there was no Mirror House. "I... I was just..."

Deciding she didn't really want to know, Jo shook her head quickly and said, "Well, does it fit right? How d'you like it?"

"I saw it... I was going in, it was right there..." Marie was muttering quietly.

"Marie?"

"I was touching it..."

"Marie."

She jumped again, and turned. She looked dazed.

"How do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The uniform, of course," Jo said with a laugh.

"Oh. It's, um... I like it well enough... Have to wear it anyway..." She tried to give her mother a convincing smile, trying to hide the fact that she was suddenly very confused, and a little sad. It would have been nice, Mirror House.

"Are you all right? You look sick..."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, mummy, really," Marie said before her mother could come in and test her forehead for a temp. She quickly removed her hand from the mirror, turned to face her mother properly, and gave another false smile.

"Well, if you're sure..."

"Um, maybe... Maybe I'm just tired, that's all. I was reading last night for a while. Yes, that's it, I'm just a bit tired."

"Oh... Well... All right. If you like it that way, then just change and bring it down so I can sew it. I can't finish it while you're still wearing it."

"Yes, mummy."

Joanna left, and then Marie turned back to the mirror. Her handprint was slowly disappearing. Like the way the fog made when you breathe on a cold window does. Then she slowly walked backward and lowered herself onto the end of a bed. She sat there and stared at the mirror for a very long time, waiting. But nothing happened. It remained exactly as it had been. Just a slab of glass in a frame that happened to show what was in the room it sat in backward. Nothing more. It was just a mirror.

Marie felt a sudden urge to begin sobbing, and she didn't know why. But she began behaving like two people again instantly, and she scolded herself for it, out of habit. "Now, don't you dare start crying Marie, you're a big girl, and big girls do not cry."

"But it's gone! Mirror House went away!"

"That doesn't mean it's gone forever. Maybe it will come back one day, and then you won't hesitate so long that it closes the next time."

"How do you know that? I might never see it again, never!"

"Oh, now don't you_ dare_ start crying, mummy will hear you and come up to see what's wrong! And_ then_ what will you do? If you tell her you were going through a mirror when she came up, then she may think you are completely mad and send you away!"

"She wouldn't do that to me, would she?"

"She may if she thinks she has no choice."

"Then I won't tell her. I'll stop." And here she wiped away what little tears had threatened to come, took a deep breath, and then changed into her everyday clothes again, folded the uniform neatly over her arm, and brought it downstairs so mummy could sew it.

What had happened to her was not actually real, in the material sense. It had not been an actual occurrence, but a Vision. The she-wolf in the woods had seen this, and it made her happy. This was good. It was going to take some time for Marie to see another Vision, or have another Dream. But it only meant that the time for her to go back was getting slowly closer. This was her first Memory. And Memories meant that she could go Home soon. All she had to do was Remember the rest. And then she could reveal herself, and Rabbit could lead Marie back. But for now, the wolves would have to keep on protecting her as they had been asked. The she-wolf turned and trotted back into the woods, a glimmer of hope making itself known to her, the first time in a long, long, while.

A/N: Okay, yes, I know it took me too long to write the next chapter, and yes, I know you are all probably annoyed with me, but I suddenly had no idea where to go with this chapter. It actually took me a long time to write, doing a little more every day. I haven't been able to come up with anything in about a week or so. Sorry. Anyways, thank you for reading, and please review, as usual. Bye!


	8. Chapter 8

Oh my God, I don't know what took me so long to come up with this! I'm really awfully sorry for coming down with a sudden case of writer's block, But at least for this chapter I think it's fixed... Here you go!

EIGHT

Dustin crept quietly through as many shadows as he could find until he came to the door that lead out of the garden. Things were taking a nasty turn... He looked about him with as much caution as was necessary under the circumstances. After a pause under the little glass table, he ran on, and after a few moments he wound up putting a foot wrong and causing a brief spasm of pain to shoot through his bad leg. He let out a small cry, then paused, sucking his breath in through his teeth and letting it out slowly. Bloody bird... The walking stick he had been holding now served it's intended purpose. He couldn't do anything about the pain, not right now. He could just ask Dresden to use some of his healing on it later, if he could manage to find him. He and Alaan were always fighting, because it said so in the poem. It made no sense, really, they were on the same side... He hadn't been able to find them for three days, or his leg wouldn't be in the shape it was in now.

It took him longer to get safely to his mouse-hole, since he was now hobbling along with only the stick to aid him. He found it eventually, however, and ducked quickly inside. He leaned against the wall and caught his breath, waited for the pain to abate. There was a sound nearby. He stiffened, and crouched. A soft voice said his name. "Dustin? Dustin, is that you?" And then the speaker came out of a shadow she'd been waiting in. It was the Magpie.

"Oh. Kit. You startled me." He straightened up again and brushed himself off, out of habit, wincing. "Yes, it's me all right, who else travels through this way?"

"There's no need to get grouchy."

"I know. But my damned leg is starting to hurt again, I stepped on it the wrong way..."

"Will you be all right? I can give you a lift if you'd like."

"No. I can't afford a lift, not now."

Kit blinked. "But you won't have to pay me..."

Dustin looked at her a moment and decided not to say anything about it. "It's just that right now I need you to get to Tristram. It's important. They have a new prisoner at the castle. How they got him, or rather, how he got here, I don't know. But he's there, and I have a vague idea of where he _might_ have come from..."

"They have many prisoners, Dustin. Is this one special?"

"They're trying to torture him for information. But apparently he literally doesn't have a brain. And he's made of straw."

"They're trying to torture something that's made of straw? Is it alive?"

"Yes. He speaks and he moves. How he does that without a brain I can't possibly imagine, but he's succeeding. I think he's from over one of the Borders."

Kit gasped. "The Borders? But no one ever comes from there! Are you sure?"

"Have you ever seen a man made of straw that walks and talks around here before?"

"Well... No, Dustin. I haven't." The mouse winced again. "Oh! Your leg! Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be just fine. Now... Get to Tristram. Tell him what I've told you. It's all I have right now, I don't understand what they're torturing him to talk about. But tell him that he's to fly across the third Border, the one with the yellow road that everyone's so keen on for some reason. He'll need to speak to someone there, see if he can find someone who might have an inkling about this strange straw man. And he needs to tell them that I'm afraid the King and Queen are planning to take over not only Mirror House, but the three Border places and possibly even Up There. He needs to warn them. Please. See to it."

"But what about you?"

"I need to find Basil. He needs to know what's going on. It's his duty. And possibly Morrow, if she'll listen to me rather than attempt to eat me..." He shuddered visibly. He hated cats.

"Are you certain you don't want a lift?"

"Yes. The message needs to be sent out as fast as possible. I'll be just fine."

"Well, if you're sure... Be well wherever you you fare. I'll be off." She flapped her wings and flew up to the ceiling of the dark building. After a moment she vanished out of a hole specially made for the birds to come in and out of, so they could roost in the rafters. He made his way to the library.

The Border places. This thing was going to reach the_ Border places_. He had never thought that the Queen would want so very much. The Border places weren't even a part of Wonderland. They were other places, places that, by some mishap or other, some child, some person, had wound up traveling to. Through a doorway of sorts. They were always popping up... There were no stories about them just yet, though, because nobody had traveled there yet. They existed, though. They always existed. And the thought that every single one of them was currently in danger rattled Dustin a great deal. How had this _happened_?

He scurried as best he could with a wounded leg across the library until he reached a book that lay open. With some difficulty, he turned a page that was bigger by hundreds of times than his body. He watched as the pop-up picture of Basil's house opened up, waited until it became real, and then hurried to the door. He knocked until a soft feminine voice reached his ears. "Just a minute!" Mary-Ann called, and a few moments later she opened the door a crack, peering around it before opening it all the way. "Hello Mr. Mouse," she said, "What are you doing here at this time in the afternoon? It's nearly tea time, and I don't recall Master Basil saying anything about having you over..."

"Yes, I know, Mary-Ann, and I am sorry, but I have important information to relay to him. Where is he, is he here? It's urgent..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Mouse, but the Master has gone out. He left but twenty minutes ago to Haigha's house, he said he was visiting to find out something, but he wouldn't tell me what it was."

Dustin cursed under his breath. "Did he say how long he'd be?"

"I'm sorry, no... But if you'd like to wait—"

"I'm sorry, Mary-Ann, I can't. As I said, it's urgent. I needed to go to Morrow's house in any case, she should at least be told as well. If he returns before I get to Haigha's place, please let him know I was here. I'm sure he could send Pat or Bill to get me if he doesn't come to get me himself. Would you please?"

"I shall, of course, Mr. Mouse."

"Thank you, Mary-Ann. Good day to you." And with that he hobbled hurriedly out of the garden. She bade him good day as well, but he didn't pay it any heed. Dammit, he needed to let Basil know about this as quickly as possible before it got out of hand, and he wasn't here... Well, at least Morrow was usually at home... She had best be of help this time, rather than attempting to eat him, as she had done before...

There was a noise coming from the general direction of some scattered broken flower pots. He paid no attention to it, as he knew what it was already. Perhaps he'd find Artier somewhere around... He would at least try to tell _him_, although he was sure that he wouldn't care what happened to whom, as long as he could keep his hookah. There was a bark. Ah.

He sighed and braced himself. A medium sized dog with spots sniffed him out and trotted happily over to him, covering the mouse in kisses before going down on his front legs and giving him a playful growl. "Yes, yes, hello, Toby," said Dustin, wiping the slimy dog spittle off of him as best he could, thankful his leg hadn't been hurt. "It's good to see you again, too. Now. Could you do me a favor, old chum?" The dog, who understood every word the mouse was saying, gave him an agreeing bark, then sat down and listened patiently. It was worth a try. "If you happen to see a white rabbit in a waistcoat hopping back home, would you kindly tell him I'm in need of his audience? You don't need to understand what that means, but _he_ will if you tell him. And then I'm sure you could just follow my scent in order to bring him to me. Is that all right?" Toby barked jovially and then obediently got up and trotted off, sniffing out a rabbit. "Good boy," muttered Dustin, and then continued to hobble off in the direction of Morrow's abode.

This whole affair was unnecessarily hard, he figured, particularly with a bad leg. Couldn't a mouse spy on the enemy without having to deal with such annoying relay races? He absent-mindedly kicked a twig, cringed when he realized he'd used his lame foot, and went on. It was a long time before anything else happened. What _did_ happen after a while was, in fact, a serpent. It reared it's ugly head out of the grass and stared down at the potential meal before him and grinned. Dustin glared defiantly up at it. He could see the damned house from here, for crying out loud! And now this snake was blocking his way.

"Hello, there, mousssey," he said.

"Hello," grumped Dustin.

"Oh, no, doesss mousssey have a boo-boo?"

Dustin sighed. He looked up. "Yes, but it doesn't hurt much. I am perfectly all right. Now if you don't mind, I have an urgent message that needs to be delivered, so if you'll excuse me..." Dustin was afraid of serpents, normally, but today he had a bad leg, and had gone through enough annoyances to give him a temper to match. He was always defiant and grumpy when he was in pain. He had no qualms about hurting this nuisance today if it did not let him pass. The serpent swerved into his path again when he tried walking another way.

"Oh, but doesssn't mousssey want to play with me? We could have ssso much fun."

Again, Dustin sighed, and then glared up at him. So this was how it was going to be, was it? "You want a playmate, serpent? Fine. Let's play." He leaned on his good leg and readied his walking stick.

A/N: Considering the fact that I'm half asleep right now as I finish this, I can't seem to figure out if that last sentence was a good one to end a chapter with or not, but I'm sticking to it. I hope you liked the chapter, and again I'm sorry for the long wait. Thanks! Bye!


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